Harry Potter and the Lost Prophecy
by SilverDove
Summary: In his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry discovers new powers, new allies and a rather disturbing prophecy that has been lost for a millenia. Suddenly Voldemort wants to recruit Harry, hormones begin to fly and he is tempted with his hearts desire.
1. Default Chapter

Harry Potter and The Lost Prophecy  
  
Chapter One  
  
In an ordinary town, in the middle of an ordinary street, sat a little antique shop, nestled snugly between a pharmacy and a Chinese restaurant. It was rather unremarkable looking. The place was tired and run down and the paint on the sign proclaiming 'The Old Curiosity Shop' was faded and peeling. People bustled up and down the busy pavement without pausing to glance at the tiny emporium, as if anyone who wasn't searching for it would see nothing but a nondescript, ramshackle old shop. However, those with a purpose, with time to spend rambling amongst its contents, could perhaps find that this little store was not all that it seemed. For amongst the chipped vases and old junk was one item that was very special. Stowed away deeply behind the crumbling paintings and wooden tables, hidden deep within the recesses of the shop in a place so dusty it appeared even the store keeper had forgotten it. There, behind an old mirror was a small wooden box, untouched by dust and sitting as if brand new on the floor. It wasn't remarkable in a way that would catch the eye, but for some reason it drew a young customer who gazed down at the object as if it radiated living energy. Pushing unruly hair from her eyes she bent down and picked it up. A few moments struggle with the lid revealed it would not open. Anyone else would have dismissed the box then and there, but the girl couldn't quite put her finger on what it was that made her buy it, despite its lack of any apparent use. The old man at the counter smiled with a twinkle in his eye as she paid him and left the shop contented, box under her arm. As the door swung shut behind her the old man grinned and turned to the shadows, where a figure revealed itself, face hidden by a hooded cloak. "It has begun," the old man said with satisfaction "Now all we must do is wait." The cloaked figure stood silent as the words echoed in the dim atmosphere. "He will be pleased?" The old man enquired after a moment. Still the figure remained silent. Then it began to melt back into the shadows, arm raised in half-mocking salute, causing its sleeve to fall back briefly to reveal a flash of silver. The figure gave a short laugh then spoke in a muted tone. "When the boy is delivered you will receive your reward" Then the spectre was gone, and the old man sat alone in his shop, smiling.  
  
  
  
* Harry Potter awoke with a start. He'd been dreaming, and from past experience he knew this was never a good thing. He shook his head violently, struggling to remember something, anything but the images flickered through his mind in a jumble. It had been different to the usual nightmares that kept him awake at night. That, at least, he was certain of.  
  
Unable to focus, he sighed and sat up, fumbling for his glasses. He glanced at the clock and saw with a start that it was almost nine. Although it was a Saturday morning, it was unusual to be left to sleep this long. Normally his aunt would wake him early with a list of chores. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he surveyed his bedroom with disgust. The room was actually his spoilt cousin Dudley's second bedroom and despite Harry having lived in there for the past 4 years, Dudley was still not happy about this arrangement. Truthfully, Harry didn't mind. For the first 10 years of his life at No. 4 Privet Drive his room had been the cupboard under the stairs, so despite the still remaining clutter of Dudley's broken toys it was a vast improvement. He shook himself awake wondering what had woken him from the strange dream. His questions were quickly answered by a loud banging, sounding as though someone was attempting to break down his door. With a yawn he got out of bed and opened the door, finding himself staring into the angry face of his Aunt Petunia. She glared at him and looked at his crumpled pyjamas with open annoyance "Layabout." She muttered. He opened his mouth to reply but she hurriedly continued. "There's a phone call for you," Aunt Petunia said sharply. "Heavens knows who would be calling you, especially this early in the morning. I don't want you tying up the line! And it better not be one of your kind." she added as an after thought. Harry stared at her for a second then hurried past her, down the stairs to the phone. Who on earth could be phoning me? He thought. He picked up the receiver gingerly. "Hello?" Harry said, stifling a yawn. "Harry?" a familiar voice asked. "Hermione!?" He asked in surprise. Hermione Granger was one of his two best friends. Along with their other best friend Ron Weasley, they attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This was what his Aunt Petunia had meant by your kind. The Dursley's were terrified by anything out of the ordinary, and ordinary is what Harry certainly was not. He was a wizard. And a very famous one at that. He had defeated Lord Voldemort, the most sinister wizard alive, on four separate occasions and had lived to tell the tale. Although their first encounter had been when Harry was only a year old, he had somehow managed to strip Voldemort of his power, freeing wizards and witches from his reign of terror. Because of this he was known nation-wide as a hero, and was unfortunately rather easy to recognise. A lightening shaped scar was emblazoned across his forehead, a souvenir of this confrontation, marking him permanently. On that day both his parents had been killed by Voldemort, and not, as his Aunt had once told him, in a motor accident. He had been brought to Little Whinging, Surrey to live with his aunt, her husband and their overweight brat Dudley. All three despised Harry, and tried to make his life as difficult as possible. They were petrified of anything 'unnatural', and even more terrified that someone would find out that they were connected to such goings on. People in the wizarding world didn't have technology like telephones and he remembered with a chuckle the time Ron had attempted to telephone him, succeeding only in shouting rather loudly at Uncle Vernon, who had been decidedly outraged. Fortunately Hermione was a muggle-born witch, meaning she had grown up with non-magical parents and knew fully well how to use a telephone. "Harry? Are you still there?" Hermione asked impatiently, the sound of her voice reminding Harry how much he was missing her, his other friends and Hogwarts. He sighed, remembering it was only the middle of July, which left a whole month and a half to go before he could return to school. Harry smiled. "I'm here, I'm just a bit surprised. And tired." He added, stifling yet another yawn. "I didn't wake you did I?" Hermione asked, worriedly.  
  
"I haven't been sleeping that well..." Harry began, and then trailed off. He didn't want her to worry as he knew she would. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. It great to hear from you! Has everything been ok?" "I really need to get an owl! I can't contact you unless Hedwig or Pig are here delivering mail." Hermione replied in exasperation. Wizards used a rather nifty system of Owl Post to communicate. Harry had his very own owl, Hedwig who was currently delivering a letter to his Godfather, Sirius Black. Hedwig had been an eleventh birthday present from his friend Hagrid. Hagrid was the groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts and had been the first magical person Harry had met. Pig, short for Pigwidgeon was Ron's tiny owl. "Is everything ok?" Harry asked, starting to feel slightly worried at his best friends' tone. "Oh, everything's fine. I just feel so distanced from our world. I wanted to see how you were handling living with your relatives again. How are they treating you?" Harry laughed. It was so like Hermione to be worried about him. "Same as always. Dudley's trying to be as obnoxious as possible, but I'm just counting down the days until I leave!"  
  
"When are you going to The Burrow?" Hermione asked, chuckling. The Burrow was Ron's home, and it was possibly Harry's favourite place in the whole world. "Next week. Are you going too?"  
  
"That's what I was ringing about. I thought we could go together. Mrs Weasley suggested that you and I meet at the Leaky Cauldron and we can either floo in from there or call the Knight Bus."  
  
"That sounds perfect!" They busily made the arrangements then Harry asked Hermione about her summer so far. "Well, I've finished all of my homework, of course. And I've been studying quite a bit." Harry smiled to himself. Hermione was by far the smartest girl in school. "There's so much to do this year. O.W.Ls are only a few months away. And my father wants me to take my GCSE's as well." O.W.Ls were Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the fifth year exams. Harry thought they sounded bad enough, but to be taking muggle exams as well would be terrible. "You're not going to use the time turner again are you?" Harry asked suspiciously. In third year she'd used a time turner to go back in time a few hours, enabling her to take far too many classes. She'd completely exhausted herself with the stupid thing, although Harry had to admit that it had proved itself useful.  
  
"Don't be silly! I almost wore myself out with that. I'm just going to have a very intense study timetable, that's all." She had just started to tell him the muggle subjects she would be taking when Aunt Petunia walked into the hall and plugged in the vacuum cleaner. "You. Breakfast. Now" She hissed at Harry, turning on the Hoover and vacuuming around his feet. "Hermione?" Harry shouted over the noise "I've got to go. Sorry!" "That's okay" Harry could just make out her voice amongst the noise "I'll see you soon!"  
  
Harry hung up and glared at his aunt, who looked over at him. Seeing he'd finished she reached over and switched the Hoover off. Biting back a harsh remark Harry padded barefoot into the kitchen. He placed the frying pan on the stove and reached into the fridge for the bacon and eggs. Dudley had miraculously lost some weight in the past year, which meant the grapefruit and lettuce diet was now off and fried breakfasts were back on. Over breakfast his aunt moaned about how long he'd been on the telephone, complaining that she was waiting for an important call. His Uncle Vernon informed him he looked not only like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, but that the hedge had obviously been simultaneously dragged through a combine harvester. But despite these comments from his relatives he smiled to himself. Today was the 24th. He would meet Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron pub in London on the 30th, the day before his 15th birthday. It was only 6 days away. Everything was neatly arranged. The only possible obstacle was actually getting there. Harry turned to his uncle and smiled fetchingly. After a few moments Uncle Vernon lowered his newspaper and looked at him. "What's the matter with you?" he asked suspiciously. "I'm leaving on the 30.th" Harry announced. "I'll be gone the rest of the summer." "Good." Uncle Vernon stated, turning back to his newspaper. Harry kept the smile plastered on his face. Uncle Vernon glanced over at him and frowned. "What?!" he growled dangerously. "Well, I need a lift. To London." This was followed by silence, then-  
  
"Fine." Harry's smile disappeared in shock "What?" he asked incredulously. "I said fine. It'll be worth it to get you out of the house. I have to go up on business anyway."  
  
Harry stared in amazement. He'd expected a fight but this had almost been too easy. "Thank you" he said warily, getting up to put the dishes in the sink. The Dursley's ignored him. He left the washing up and headed upstairs to get dressed. Hedwig was waiting for him with a reply from Sirius. Pulling on a pair of jeans that were far too big and an old T-shirt he took the note from Hedwig's leg and she hooted happily. He stroked her soft down as he read the reply.  
  
Harry I'm glad to hear you're all right. I've been very busy and I'll be going away for a while so you won't be able to reach me for some time. Don't try and contact me, I'll write to you as soon as possible. If anything happens contact Dumbledore immediately. Have a nice summer and I'll be in touch, Snuffles  
  
Harry smiled. Two years ago he'd had a few happy moments when he'd thought he would be going to live with his newly acquired godfather, but the dream had been short-lived. Sirius was an escaped prisoner and the evidence to set him free had escaped, leaving him on the run. He'd been sent to Azkaban, the wizard prison, 14 years ago for a crime he didn't commit and Harry hoped that one day soon he would be able to prove Sirius' innocence. Hedwig hooted loudly. Harry looked up and saw that there was still a tiny package tied to her leg. He took it from her and she ruffled her wings, flying quickly to her cage for a drink. He unwrapped the tiny parcel carefully, wondering what could be inside. Sirius seemed to have used a lot of parchment to wrap it up with. Eventually he came to the last layer, which turned out to be another note. As he unravelled it a tiny flash of silver fell out and dropped to the floor. Bending down Harry picked it up, staring at it curiously. It was a tiny silver charm, like a lopsided teardrop, hanging from a delicate chain. In the bowl of the drop a large green stone was set, glinting dully in the morning light. Puzzled, Harry began to read the second note.  
  
Harry- This charm belonged to your mother. I know it was the wrong thing to do, but I took it from her neck on that day. I didn't want anyone to take it. I'm sorry for doing this, and I hope you're not upset.  
  
I hid it in a secret place that I will one day show you. I've been waiting for the right time to give it to you, and I think that you are now old enough to understand it. Your mother hardly ever took this off, almost for as long as I knew her. Treasure it. Snuffles.  
  
Harry sat down slowly onto his bed. He stared at the delicate silver charm, then closed it tightly in his fist and held on to it fiercely. Something of his mothers! He was holding a part of her. He'd never felt this close to her before- not even when he'd seen her in the mirror of Erised, or when he'd heard her death each time the Dementors had appeared. He imagined he could almost smell her hair, almost feel her touch, almost..but that was all it was. Almost. Never reality. Suddenly Harry found himself hugging his pillow, weeping brokenheartedly for the parents he would never know. He sat rocking, thinking, wishing for his hearts desire. For his parents to be alive, to be with him. To not have been stolen from him. His sadness turned to anger. It wasn't fair. Why should he have been robbed of his parents? It wasn't fair. So many families had been torn apart by Voldemort. So many lives ruined. Suddenly he thought of Neville Longbottom, another 5th year Gryffindor. His parents had been tortured with the Cruciatus curse, one of the 3 illegal curses. The pain had driven them insane and they now lived in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. There were some people who were much worse of than he was. With a determined smile Harry vowed to be a better friend to Neville this year. Suddenly there was another loud banging on the door and Aunt Petunia strode in. Harry quickly wiped his eyes, trying not to look as if he'd been crying. His aunt stared at his tear stained face, and Harry imagined he saw a brief flicker of concern cross her horsy features. Then her face returned to its usual haughtiness. "What's wrong with you?" She barked. Harry just shook his head. Her saw her eyes go to his hand, where the little charm still lay, and her eyes widened. "Where did you get that?" She asked in a frightened whisper, reaching out to take it. "It's mine!" Harry said defensively, closing his fist. "It belonged to my mother!" Aunt Petunia snatched her hand back, as if she'd been burnt. "I know." She said quietly, her eyes softening slightly. "She wore it all the time-" She caught herself and her eyes were once again hard and cold. "I came to bring you this." She barked, handing him a long sheet of paper. "This is a list of chores that need doing before you leave." She told him with a smirk. "And the dishes won't wash themselves." She added heading for the door. She paused for a second and turned around. Harry was staring at the long list and groaning, and did not see the sad expression on his aunts face. Then she left the room, closing the door behind her. Hearing the door click as it shut, Harry looked up and made a face. He'd known he'd gotten off too lightly. It was going to be a long week. With a sigh he stood up, intending to get some of the chores done, then changed his mind and sunk into the chair by his desk instead. Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and scribbled a hasty note to Ron and Hermione.  
  
Dear Ron and Hermione. How have your summers been? The Dursley's are being strangely nice to me, which is a bit suspicious but at least I only have another 6 days here! Nothing interesting has happened. I've been so bored that I've actually finished all my homework, including that nasty essay for Snape! You should be proud Hermione; I think you're rubbing off on me. Anyway, I'll see you both soon! 10 o'clock at the leaky cauldron Hermione- don't forget! Harry. P.S. Ron, can you please send this note on to Hermione once you've read it? Thanks!  
  
He tied the note onto Hedwig's leg. "I want you to take this to Ron, then take it to Hermione and stay there in case she wants to send a reply." He told her, giving her a small owl treat. With an affectionate nip Hedwig spread her snowy white wings and headed out the window. Suddenly Harry felt strangely alone. He walked to the window, watching her fly away. He could see Old Mrs Figg, who lived a few streets away, standing on the pavement staring up at him. He waved at her and she quickly turned and hurried back to her house. Harry rather liked Mrs Figg. He'd stayed there a number of times when he was growing up, while the Dursley's had gone on holiday or out for dinner. Her house was quite nice apart from all the cats. She was a terrible cook and had a rather scratchy personality, but she was always quite nice to him, which was a nice change from the Dursleys. He sat back down on his bed, still gazing out the window. Only 6 more days and he would be free.  
  
  
  
*  
  
"Harry!" a shrill voice cut through the air. Harry looked up from the flowerbed he was busy weeding to see his aunt standing at the back door, with a scowl on her face. He stood, brushing dirt from his hands and looked at her expectantly, wondering what his next chore would be. Aunt Petunia waved a piece of paper in his face. "Aren't you finished yet? You'd better hurry. I need you to go to the supermarket for me. We've run out of almost all of Dudley's favourite foods." Harry scowled at her. "And while you're there, you can pick up my dry cleaning." She added with a smirk. Harry groaned, but knew if he said anything or complained he could lose his ride to London tomorrow. As he wiped his dirty hands on his too-big jeans he thought about how good it would be to see Hermione and Ron again. And to be back at the Burrow after spending the past month with the Dursley's was like a dream come true. As he made his way into the house he thought that it would be nice to get the Weasleys a thank you gift for being so kind to him. He pondered on the ideal present as he changed out of his muddy clothes. Almost two hours later he was still trying to decide, as he left Sainsbury's, arms full of grocery bags, and quickly made his way down the crowded pavement towards the dry cleaners. He was passing by a small alley when a sharp pain shot through his scar, causing him to drop his shopping to the ground. He was doubled over in pain, when a terrifyingly familiar voice cut through the air. "Harry Potter." 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Seeds of Doubt  
  
An icy coldness ran through Harry's body. Pulling his wand from his pocket he slowly spun around, dreading the sight that awaited him.  
  
Lord Voldemort stood hidden in the shadows. Harry froze for a second, unsure, but as Voldemort took a step forward, he raised his wand.  
  
"Stupefy!" he shouted, ignoring the searing pain in his scar. A blast of light issued from his wand tip, but Voldemort just laughed, blocking the curse with a wave of his hand.  
  
"Tsk, tsk," he tutted, shaking his finger in Harry's direction "Underage magic- whatever would the Ministry say if they knew? It's no use wasting your time," he added as Harry raised his wand again "I'm not here to fight."  
  
Harry glared at him sceptically. Quite frankly, he didn't trust Voldemort as far as he could throw a hippogriff.  
  
"Somehow I don't quite believe you," Harry said sarcastically, not quite looking his enemy in the eye. Instead he glanced at the people passing by the alley. No one had reacted to his shouting or to the lightshow his spell had produced.  
  
"They can't see us, can they?" Harry asked, feeling as though he'd just been hit in the stomach by a Bludger. He already knew the answer. There was no chance for help. He was alone with a homicidal maniac - one who seemed to be fixated on destroying Harry. If he tried to run, would he make it? He looked surreptitiously around him.  
  
Voldemort seemed to sense his thoughts.  
  
"If you try anything, I will kill them," he said, indicating the Muggles who passed by the alley, blissfully unaware of the drama enfolding within it. He waved his hand at them as if they were nothing more than flies and watched Harry's furious face with a sly smile.  
  
"It is a simple shielding charm to keep out nosey Muggles as well as any members of the Ministry who may stumble by. No help will come if you scream. But such hysterics are not necessary on your part. I simply want you to listen."  
  
"What do you want?" Harry asked through clenched teeth, standing straighter. He folded his arms across his chest, wand still clutched tightly in his hand.  
  
"You are very young, Harry Potter. And yet you think you can defeat me?" Voldemort laughed at Harry's bravado. "I possess a great deal of power, more than you could ever imagine. But once I was like you are now. We are so much alike. The similarities are uncanny-"  
  
Harry cut him off. "I know all this." Voldemort raised his eyebrows in question.  
  
"Tom Riddle told me." Harry said quietly.  
  
"Ah, yes," Voldemort said thoughtfully, "My old diary. I really must punish Lucius for that rather embarrassing episode. But Tom was, of course, correct. Even you must recognise the similarities. We share so much, so many qualities."  
  
"I am nothing like you!" Harry spat. "I will never be like you! I would rather die!"  
  
"Silence! Be careful what you wish for," he said menacingly. "I may grant that wish! But for now you will listen!" He waved his wand and Harry felt his mouth clamp shut.  
  
"Mmph!!" Harry moaned, unsuccessfully trying to unclamp his jaws with his fingers. After a few seconds of struggle he gave up and glared at Voldemort. His enemy gave a strange laugh that was almost a giggle and continued.  
  
"Now that I have your undivided attention," he began with a smirk, "Let me explain. I was once like you are now. Alone, parentless, stuck living in this pathetic world" His face was contorted in disgust as he watched the busy street in distain.  
  
"A prisoner in a world full of ignorant, uneducated Muggles. Useless vermin, who infest the planet, destroying that which they do not understand! Hogwarts was my only escape. I studied hard. I learnt a great deal, enough to ensure I would never again be forced to rely on those beneath me. I discovered powers that were not merely powers of a humble wizard. They were much, much older. Powers similar to those you too possess."  
  
"Mmph??" Harry grunted, confusion and anger flitting across his face.  
  
Voldemort looked at him strangely, then with a wave of his wand Harry's mouth sprang open.  
  
"What powers?" Harry asked, massaging his jawbone.  
  
Voldemort looked at him in surprise. "You mean no one has told you?" A sly smile spread across his face. "You really don't know? Why do you think I made an attempt on your life 14 years ago? Why do you think I failed? Were you never curious?"  
  
Harry fought the questions on the tip of his tongue and just stared at him indifferently.  
  
"You faced me three times, unaware of your abilities? You truly are a Gryffindor aren't you? All bravery and action, with no brains, no thought for consequences."  
  
Harry bristled and opened his mouth to retort but Voldemort cut him off with a shrill bark of laughter.  
  
"They did not trust you, did they boy? They would not tell, would not explain?" He smiled cruelly, and then spoke as if to himself. "Ah, what a fool Dumbledore is! He has practically delivered you to me!"  
  
"Why?" Harry asked suddenly.  
  
"Why what?" Voldemort replied, "Why did I try to kill you?"  
  
Harry nodded. Dumbledore had said he would find out the reason in time, but he could wait no longer.  
  
"Simple, child! There is not enough room on this planet for two master wizards to rule. And being who you are, with your lineage, you would not have walked the same path as I. You would have become an opposing power. You may even have defeated me eventually. I assumed that as a child your powers would not have developed as mine had, not at so young an age. I was sadly mistaken and paid dearly for that oversight."  
  
"So why tell me now?" Harry asked, feeling suddenly brave. "Why not just kill me here and now?"  
  
"You have a greater purpose, boy." Voldemort hissed. "You will be useful in the times to come."  
  
Harry stared at him in bewilderment. "What use?"  
  
Voldemort smirked. "I'm sure you will find out in time. Your powers will manifest as you grow older. I know how it feels. I understand. I can help you to master those powers."  
  
Harry glared at him "You're lying. And I don't want your help!"  
  
"Perhaps," Voldemort said, meeting his eyes. "We shall see. Here-" he threw an object at Harry who caught it instinctively. He looked down and saw, to his surprise, an old and worn book.  
  
"Some summer reading for you. It will make you understand."  
  
Harry glared at Voldemort suspiciously.  
  
"We will meet again soon, Harry. That, my boy, is a promise."  
  
Harry's scar pulsed briefly with pain. He fell to his knees holding his head, and when he looked up, Voldemort was gone, and a familiar old woman was staring down at him.  
  
"What are you doing down there?" Mrs Figg asked sharply as Harry picked himself up off the ground.  
  
He smiled feebly at her, still holding his head.  
  
"I fell." Harry answered as politely as he could muster under the circumstances. He hastily picked up his shopping and said goodbye.  
  
"Wait!" she called. "You forgot something."  
  
He turned around to see her gazing curiously at the book Voldemort had throw him.  
  
"Oh, thanks," he said, taking it from her. She glanced at him suspiciously, then turned and walked away. Harry glanced around but Voldemort had well and truly vanished. With a worried sigh he headed for the bus stop.  
  
As he sat on the bus he gazed out the window, desperate to get back to Privet Drive so he could tell someone. 'But who?' he thought. What if Voldemort was telling the truth? What if they did know something and didn't trust him? Did that still mean he could trust them? Thoughts swam around in his brain and he shook his head violently to clear his mind, attracting a few strange looks from the other passengers.  
  
'No!' He told himself. 'I will not let him plant seeds of doubt in my mind!'  
  
He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost missed his stop. After he was off the bus, Harry all but ran down Privet Drive. He dropped the shopping off in the kitchen before he sprinted upstairs to his room. Once there, he hastily pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and began to write:  
  
Dear Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry to have to bother you, but the strangest thing happened today. I went shopping for my aunt and on the way home I ran into Voldemort. He didn't try to hurt me -he said he just wanted to talk. He told me that we were a lot alike. He said I had special powers, just like him, and that you didn't trust me enough to tell me about them. Is this true? I'll be in Diagon Alley tomorrow then I'm heading to The Burrow for the rest of the holidays, in case you need to contact me. I'm a little confused. Harry  
  
Harry bit his lip. He hadn't mentioned the book. He glanced over at the bed where it lay. He remembered something Ron had said in second year, about books that once you started reading you couldn't put down. But.surely if Voldemort wanted to kill him there were better ways to do so. Slowly he reached over and stared at the cover. It was bound in dark red leather with a green snake on the faded cover. Harry swallowed and opened the book. As he was about to glance down at the page, a shout like a sonic boom echoed up the stairs.  
  
"Harry!" a shrill voice hollered, "Get down here this instant!"  
  
Sighing, he dropped the book back onto the bed. He hurried down the stairs and found himself face to face with his livid uncle. Behind him his aunt stood looking extremely irate.  
  
"I send you on one simple errand and you can't even do it right!" she shouted.  
  
Harry gazed at her in bewilderment. "What did I do?" he asked uncertainly.  
  
"It's not what you did; it's what you didn't do!" His uncle roared.  
  
Harry thought for a second and groaned inwardly. "The dry-cleaning?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
His uncle nodded. "We have an extremely important business dinner tomorrow night, and I no longer have a clean suit to wear." His voice was dangerously quite. "Thank your lucky stars that you're leaving tomorrow."  
  
Harry looked at him in panic. "You-you'll still take me to London won't you?"  
  
Uncle Vernon smiled evilly. "You must be joking-"  
  
"Oh, well in that case I'll have to fly on my broomstick." Harry said slyly, cutting him off. "Or I could write to my Godfather- you remember, the escaped convict? - and ask him to take me."  
  
Uncle Vernon paled slightly and Aunt Petunia looked around nervously in case any neighbours had heard talk of flying broomsticks and convicts.  
  
"No!" Harry's uncle shouted. "I-I meant to say that even though you're completely useless, I'll take you anyway. Keep you out of our hair."  
  
"Thanks." Harry smiled sarcastically. "I'm sorry about the dry cleaning, Aunt Petunia. Here's the change from the shopping."  
  
She snatched the money from his hand, scowling after him as he quickly turned and headed back up to his room, intending to send the letter.  
  
Shutting the door behind him he realised that Hedwig was still delivering his message to Ron and Hermione. Harry picked up the note and re-read it. Sighing he crumpled it in his fist and threw it into the wastepaper bin beside his desk.  
  
'I'll contact Dumbledore from the Burrow,' he convinced himself.  
  
Harry flopped down on his bed, feeling rather confused. Meeting Voldemort, and talking to him rather than fighting him had been strange and.disturbing. Were they really that much alike? He remembered with a shiver being in the Chamber of Secrets. Tom Riddle had scared him. Not for being powerful or terrifying, but for being a 17-year-old boy, a model student, head boy. And he'd become Voldemort. Was it so easy to go from being normal to suddenly becoming evil? Was there a turning point, or was it there inside you from the start?  
  
'It could happen to me' the little voice inside of Harry whispered.  
  
"I won't let it!" Harry shouted furiously. Realising he was talking to himself he ran his fingers through his hair nervously, making it stick up even worse than usual.  
  
'What if it was true about the powers?' the little voice said  
  
'Don't be stupid! Voldemort is my enemy!' he argued. 'Besides, in the Chamber of Secrets Riddle said there was nothing special about me.'  
  
He had a sudden vision of the Chamber. The most terrible thing had not been discovering that Tom was in fact Voldemort as a teenager. Even fighting the Basilisk had not been as terrifying as seeing little Ginny Weasley lying unconscious at the feet of Slytherin's statue. He felt his heart twinge as he remembered the desperation and panic he had felt. Seeing her like that had been heart wrenching. He smiled now as he thought of her. Ginny had had a crush on him for the past four years. This usually made Harry feel rather embarrassed, especially when the twins teased him about it. But the thought comforted him now. With a chuckle he remembered the Valentine she had sent him during second year.  
  
'His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad..'  
  
Harry closed his eyes, smiling and fell asleep.  
  
*  
  
A hundred miles away Ginny Weasley sat up with a start. She was drenched in sweat and her nightgown stuck to her skin. She brushed her hair out of her eyes frantically, and glanced around. She was sitting in her own bed, in her own room. She was safe.  
  
Still hyperventilating slightly, she began to recall the chilling nightmare that had awoken her. She had been back in the Chamber of Secrets, but she was no longer an eleven year old child. She was as she was now, 14 and tall and willowy. Tom was there too; lovely comforting Tom who had turned out to be dark and evil. The boy who had listened to her pour her heart out and then twisted everything, using her like a puppet. She had stood glaring at Tom, the boy who had betrayed her. Then before she could stop him he had walked swiftly across the room and, grabbing her by the shoulders, kissed her. The kiss had deepened and Ginny had begun to melt into it.  
  
Then she had remembered who she was kissing, that he was You-Know-Who, and she had felt for the dagger which had appeared in her pocket. Bringing her hand up between them she had plunged it deep into his chest. He had broken the kiss to cry out in pain, but when her eyes flew open, expecting to feel triumphant, she saw that it was not Tom after all, but someone who was remarkably similar.  
  
Harry.  
  
His green eyes were wide with pain and tears and he fell forwards, hands clutching the dagger in his breast. She had lowered him slowly to the ground and had cradled his head in her hands, her tears falling down to mingle with his. He looked up at her with wide eyes, unbelieving eyes. She had looked around frantically, hoping that the phoenix was coming, as she knew it had 2 years ago.  
  
But it didn't come and she was forced to watch as Harry's blood flowed quickly through her fingers.  
  
Then Harry had looked at her with surprise on his face, and said "What have you done?"  
  
And then he had died. And she had sobbed and sobbed over his lifeless body. Then she had looked at her hands, covered in his life blood, and she had screamed.  
  
Ginny screamed again, feeling the pain of remembrance. There was a bang as her door flew open and Fred and George burst in.  
  
"What's wrong?" Fred asked, looking around the room, wand outstretched.  
  
Ginny shook her head and continued to cry. After a few minutes Ron came running in, several inches of ankle showing below his too short pyjamas.  
  
"Ginny!" he exclaimed, sitting down beside her. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I had a dream," She choked out between sobs. "Harry, he died." She said no more, unable to explain that it had all been her fault. Ron put his arms around her.  
  
"Shh," he whispered, rubbing her back gently. "It's ok, everything's ok."  
  
He eased her back under her covers and stroked her hair gently.  
  
Ron sat, watching over her and whispering soothingly until she fell back asleep, then he and the twins tiptoed back to their rooms, worrying about their little sister. 


End file.
